Redemption
by Teresa Martin
Summary: Faramir and Eowyn suffer their Purgatories and find peace. This is a re-write of a story I wrote in 2004. I was trying to reconcile the movie Faramir and book Faramir. I took another look at it recently and decided to clean it up and complete it.
1. The Unseen Hand

The sun was high above Osgiliath when Faramir's advisor and friend, Mablung, approached him.  
  
"Captain," he said, "it is not too late. We may yet find the halflings and bring them to your father."  
  
Faramir replied, "My decision is made. I will not go back on my word. I would hope that Faramir of Gondor would still have some honor left." The look in his eyes then did not invite further conversation.  
  
Yet Mablung ventured to speak, "I need to know your mind in this. You let the hobbits go without, to me it seems, any reason. So suddenly."  
  
Faramir turned to him. "It was not so sudden," he said. "Or not so sudden as it seemed. From the moment I realized that the Ring was in my hands, I sensed it was a treasure beyond my control." Mablung shook his head. "Did you not see the creature, Gollum?" Faramir demanded. "What he was? And If I needed more convincing that the Ring boded evil, the Nazgul provided it."  
  
Again, Mablung shook his head. "That may be so, Captain, but I must warn once more, your life will be forfeit. Your father will not spare you because you are kin."  
  
"I do not need to be reminded what kin means to my father," Faramir said sadly, making his companion silent. "My life would have been forfeit had I taken the Ring." Faramir looked to the sky and declared, "The decision is made, nothing for it now. We must protect our people. Osgiliath must hold!"  
  
---  
  
Faramir looked to the sky in wariness as he kept watch in the ruins of Osgiliath. He was not alone. All sat up, allowing themselves a smoke on their pipes, but little conversation. Faramir, a contemplative man by nature, relived the past few days. He hardly knew himself. He had been short with the Hobbits, tying them up without finding whether they were friends or foes. More than once the halflings had begged to be let go. Yet he refused. Even knowledge of their friendship with Boromir did not earn his trust.  
  
Worse, Faramir had threatened the pain of death upon the hobbits' companion, and by forcing Frodo to trick the creature, he had caused a rift between them. The grief and sorrow expressed by that creature at the betrayal was all on his hands.  
  
Yet, as though an unseen hand was forcing him, Faramir had continued to harden his heart and oppress the halfings, even to the stealing of the Ring.  
  
Ah, there it was. This theft would have meant his father's favor. Would it have meant that no longer would Boromir be the hero son of Gondor? But his brother, Faramir the Great, who brought back the ruling ring and saved his people, would be renowned.  
  
The stocky halfling had told Faramir that the Ring had driven his brother mad. If true, and the Ring could take control over a man such as Boromir, had th had then the Ring been controlling him when he, Faramir, was with the halflings? Perhaps that accounted for his behavior. For he had acted as one possessed, a man that he did not know.  
  
Then he let the Ring go. That was almost as mad, and as Mablung said, coming as it was so suddenly. Faramir had been afraid, that explained part of it, but there was also something else. He had seen in Sam the man he usually was. One who did what he believed was right, who inspired, did not command in coolness.  
  
Now he did not know anything. Neither his mind, nor heart. That too, no doubt, was the Ring.  
  
Yet he knew he did right. That was his sure knowledge.   
  
He had his fall. Now was the time of redemption.  
  
***  
  
Dreams now haunted Faramir, till he wished not to sleep. Yet oddly, in the dark mists Faramir also found a strange comfort. Brooding into the silence he reproached himself. Not a superstitious man by nature, Faramir could not help but see something moving in him. Was this friendly or no, he was uncertain. But moving him it was.   
  
He slept and met the Ring again, relived the Nazgul, the decision to let the hobbits go, something begging him to change his mind and find Frodo. Then another image, that of a rider in white, urging him on his journey, imploring him to continue as he had.   
  
Faramir dreamed also, as though from another alternate past, of a better manner in which he could have dealt with the halflings. In this past, he was one who would not touch the weapon of the enemy were his own land lying in ruins. He spoke to the hobbits with courtesy and respect and did not meet the Nazgul, nor inflame it by shooting at it.  
  
Then Faramir awoke back in the mists and realized that while he was only a half-day's ride from home, he was still lost. 


	2. Awakening

Faramir stirred and looked about him. Bodies of the fallen surrounded him, yet he saw at length that one was stirring: a woman with fair hair whose eyes fluttered open as a man touched her forehead then left quickly, followed by many.

Then there were voices ordering to find the ones alive and take them to the rooms. He heard the lady pleading with a healer to let her rise, and the healer declining the request.

"Then let me look East, where I may see my loved ones departing," she insisted.

"My lady," the healer's voice was gentle, but firm, "no one is departing. There is much recovery to be done before any man leaves. You must put all your strength into healing." She began her protest anew, but he interrupted. "I promised your brother, the King."

At that, the lady lay back and allowed the healer to continue his work. More words were said, and then medicine given which appeared to be a strong sedative, for within minutes the lady lay in deep slumber.

Presently, Faramir arose prompting the healer came to him and check his bandages. He had been dressed in far less finery than his last waking memory. A command to carry him to the Houses of Healing was given.

Faramir contradicted the order insisting that he could walk to the houses. "See, rather, to those that need your services more severely."

'Yes, Steward.'

Faramir started. It was the first time he heard himself addressed by his father's title. He had knowledge that it was his now, for he had seen his father say his name before a terrible death by fire, yet hearing the title was another matter. He paused for a breath. Leave that to later, when the war was decided. Another concern faced him, one that could be addressed at this moment.

"See to it that the lady is given a room that looks East."

Faramir sat and waited. The fountain was not soothing for he heard the cries of the wounded over the gentle waters like the constant wails of the fabled damned. Yet he stayed, looked up to her room, keeping vigil. He had inquired of the lady who had been in battle despite her gender and learned that it was she who felled the Witch King. The Prophesy had turned on the evil being, as must always occur, and it was so clear now that it could only have been fulfilled by a woman. What brought her here, meant little. He knew he must wait for her.

At length some white caught his eye.

He stood and looked to the lady's window, his arm falling to his side at the sight of her. She in turn looked to him and upon each other they gazed.

And Faramir knew at that moment that he had fallen in love with her.


	3. Meeting

Within minutes the Lady Eowyn was in the courtyard, her gaze wandering frantically and searching.

Faramir moved from his post and quickly intercepted her. "My Lady Eowyn," he said without preamble, "may I be of assistance?" She turned and frowned at him, so he introduced himself. "I am Faramir of Minas Tirith." A pause, "Steward of Gondor."

"Steward," she murmured, and looked at him, beholding at once his youth and then his bandages. Wounded, as was she. "I am Lady Eowyn of Rohan," she replied

He did not interrupt to tell her that of which he was well aware. She took a step toward him. "Have you news of my brother, Eomer King?"

Faramir thought of the crowd surrounding her when she was being healed. One must have been her brother, but he would not give her assurances without sure nowledge. "I know not,' he said honestly. "But this hour I will find word of him." He turned to fulfill his task.

"Pray wait," she stepped closer to him. "I require news of another, a halfing, we came to battle together. I lost him when my horse was felled."

"A halfling?" He turned back gazed earnestly at her. She was not speaking of Pippin.

"Any word, lady, I will find for you," he assured her and turned anew to call to someone, and this time she did not interrupt him. A servant appeared immediately, and Eowyn knew of his status.

When Faramir turned again and gazed upon her, he saw that she had begun shivering. Yet still she looked upon him and said, "I would like to see my Uncle." And Faramir saw the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Lady, now you must rest and be warm," he answered quickly for she began to object anew, and seeing her grief, he also felt the shadow of meloncholy upon him. "It is now for us to see to our health, for the time may come sooner than we wish where we may be called again into battle." Then his grey eyes looked down into hers.

Had the lady planned further objection, it was halted for now her teeth chattered, and Faramir took her by the elbow. "Let us return to your room. There will be much of which to speak when dawn arrives. Now you must sleep."

So it was that Lady Eowyn, slayer of the Witch-King, permitted herself to be led, barely nodding as the Steward of Gondor bowed before her at the door to her chamber, taking his leave.

And within seconds she was in her covers, still shivering, in deep sleep.


End file.
